Animal
by Kaslyna
Summary: Post-ep for All Things. :D MSR, angst/romance/sex/smut, etc., etc. Please read and review, you know you want to! :D Based on Ke ha's song, Animal. :/


**A/N: Because every true fan needs to do a post-All Things tag. ;D This is mine, rated for the usual and whatnot. :/**

**Disclaimer: Chris Carter, Fox, and 1013 Productions owns The X-Files. I own nothing. Sorry.**

She's tired, she's so fucking tired of pretending. She wakes up with this mantra in her head. She's a tad disoriented but knows where she is and is instantly comforted by the familiar surroundings. He has long gone to bed and, before she can lose her nerve, she finds herself in his bedroom, sitting beside him.

"I can hear you thinking," he says and she smiles and chuckles softly. He sits and reaches for her hand, which she willingly lets him hold.

"Mulder..."

"You gonna go?"

"No," she hesitates, and shakes her head, "No. I'm not leaving."

"Well, then," he responds, albeit a little awkwardly, and perhaps a little shyly, too, "Lie with me. Let's talk."

She sighs and nods, laying down beside him on the bed, as they have done so many times before. But it's never been so laced through with the unspoken truth; never has she felt this strong urge to just take what by now is rightfully hers to claim, but she dares not voice this. She's a little embarrassed but she has to do this, now. If she can do it, that is. She closes her eyes and sighs again, slightly wistful.

"What's going through that pretty brain of yours?" she looks at him and smiles wanly, shaking her head sadly.

"Eight years, Mulder, eight fucking years," she replies mysteriously.

"Yeah?" he asks, absently tucking a stray lock of her short hair behind her ear. He glimpses upon her face a small, brief smile before she nods.

"I'm so sick of this shit, Mulder."

"You're not leaving me, are you?" he asks, not bothering to hide his obvious panic.

"Hell no, Mulder. Quite the opposite," she sighs, chuckling and shaking her head nervously, "I... I just need... I'll never leave you, I swear, Mulder, but... I'm so damn sick of pretending, Mulder. Of lying, not to myself, but to you, too..."

"Scully?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," he admits, knowing what she's trying to convey without her actually saying it.

"I know."

"You thought I was high," he sighs and laughs.

"I'm sorry about that, really, I am, Mulder. I was just... shocked," she explains, a flush spreading over her entire body.

A few moments later and her voice, shaky and timid, says, "I... I love you."

He smiles at her and she smiles shyly, nervously, back at him, and he leans over and kisses her, and it's becoming passionate and she's tugging on his sweatpants.

"Scully..."

"You won't ever lose me, Mulder. I promise," she says.

That is enough for him to allow her to pull off his sweats; in return, he has her stockings, skirt, jacket, and top off quickly as well, looking at her beautiful body. She sucks in a sharp breath, feeling his critical assessment. It was so intimate; she could just be lost in his loving, tender gaze forever and ever and never consummate their relationship, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to so she lets him unhook the clasp on her bra, lets him slide it gently, cautiously, down her arms, like she might break if he moves wrong, and while normally this irritates her she finds it endearing and she loves him so much it's almost painful, her heart is almost bursting with the feeling.

"I love you," he says, hovering over her; their underwear has been discarded somewhere unimportant, and he needs to tell her this before they take this final leap.

"I love you, too," she replies, breathing slightly hitched as he enters her in one gentle, fluid stroke.

Their lovemaking is slow, gentle, cautious, languid, and he loves the way her cerulean eyes, with their flecks of amber and moss green, stare into his hazel eyes, loves the way it seems like they're looking into each other's souls. He loves the way she cries out his name, his first name, when she comes, and how he calls out her real name as well when he empties himself within her, shuddering and collapsing in her strong arms.

"I love you so much, Dana," he whispers into the dark, fearful of the possible repercussions of their intimacy.

"I love you, too," she yawns, before falling asleep.

* * *

When she's not there in the morning, he panics; until he smells coffee and finds a note in his kitchen from her:

_Fox-_

_I'm sorry I left before you woke up. I needed to get to my apartment and change clothes. Last thing we need is to confirm the rumors, right? Anyways, I made you some coffee, and there's two pieces of toast as well for you. I'd like to speak to you about this in-depth later, though I have no regrets whatsoever. See you at work very soon. Try to be professional, okay?_

_Love always,_

_Dana_

He smiles absently and eats the food and drinks the coffee she'd left for him. He sighs. It's bittersweet, really, and he prays to God that she'll see how much this means not only to him, but to herself as well; however, he'll accept anything she decides, he loves her so fucking much, consequences be damned. Rules went out the proverbial window the minute she walked into that basement office.

Eight years, that's all it really took for either of them to admit it, and now he's scared, because he's learned all good things must come to an end.

He leaves the apartment tentatively, with both apprehension and hope swelling in his heart as he prepares to not only solve impossible crimes, but to face the woman he loves, the only one he'd sacrifice for.

The walk to work is filled with the sound of his heartbeat, like a drum, in his ears, and her voice in his thoughts.

"As long as I have her," he vows to himself, "I'll always protect her."

He sighs wistfully, tiredly, and shakes his head. He looks at the FBI building with trepidation. Taking a deep, calculated breath, he enters, and prepares to face the music.


End file.
